


maybe it's all part of a plan

by Chryses



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A bit of pinning, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Humour, Infidelity, M/M, Multi, Past-Baker!Harry, Romance, Tags Are Fun, The Other Woman AU of sorts, a dog that Harry supposedly has, alcohol use, but is barely mentioned, but mild grinding, but not with lou and haz, lawyer!louis, mentions of one night stands, ruined satchels, some brief, some cute dog references, tags are good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 22:08:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2404628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chryses/pseuds/Chryses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But then, what happened to 'Man with the penis tattoo', or 'Purple balls'? What about them?" Niall plows closer to his face, as eager as a small pup awaiting for its first chew toy.</p><p>"Gone." Louis replies simply, as he began replying through his overflowing inbox, fingers clacking on the keyboard, about 70 words per minute.</p><p>Niall gasps closely to his ear. He pushes the boy's face away.</p><p>"As in gone? Like, really gone? Empty slate gone?" Niall rambles, once again crowding closer to his face.</p><p>Louis nods, not taking his eyes off the screen. "The whole red carpet, gone." He affirms, smirking slightly at Niall's permanently gaping mouth.</p><p>"Wow Lou." Niall says after a questionable silence that drifted along them. "You've never been, like, held down by just one guy before. The man must be that special, eh?"</p><p>Or an AU Where Louis is Cameron Diaz, Harry is Leslie Mann, Liam is Kate Upton, and Zayn is the hot step-brother, and Niall's the 'oh-so-helpful' assistant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe it's all part of a plan

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is basically an AU spin on the Other Woman (2014), and is essentially the longest oneshot to ever surpass my fingertips. Please enjoy!

**~**

 

When Louis wakes up the next morning, he feels butterfly kisses swarm at his temples. At first, he'd have thought it was a dog or something (with little sweet, reverent dabs onto his flushed skin), but then he remembers the past few months, and the familiar heat to warm his stomach, because, yes, this is definitely happening: he's being woken up by his _boyfriend_.

A few months ago, if one was to ask him on his take on 'relationships' he would've laughed at your face, and say that real love is nothing but an empty myth, and that one-night stands are a way to go, because those are easy, those are convenient, and they're usually very discreet when they leave: not even a note or something, so Louis wouldn't even have to be bothered to try and recall who they were.

But, Matt is different, like _up-the-scale_ different. He is humorous, he is bold, he is confident, he is loving; much like a newborn pup who's undergone under aged development. He's got this carefully defined body, well-toned muscles, and enigmatic brown eyes. His hair is clean-cut brown (like he's ready for any photo shoot), and is styled to combed down in both sides, so there is a slit of scalp on the crown of his head. He's got this spray-tan quality to his skin (Louis had jokingly asked him before if his skin was naturally like that, and Matt looked offended, so Louis left it alone for the time being), which made his pale skin appear like a colouring book, where all you could ever use to describe his skin tone is typically orange. It shouldn't be attractive, but Matt somehow makes it work, and Louis' attracted to that.

 

After a particularly long peck to his nape, an unexpected giggle rumbled onto his throat.

 

Crap.

 

He felt Matt chuckle, as he pressed another small peck onto Louis' lips, before pulling away with a small sigh. The dip on his bed disappears, and Louis whines with the lost of heat.

 

" _Come back_." He pouts, as he blearily claws at the sheets right by his side.

 

God, when did he become such a needy child?!

 

Matt chuckles, pecking Louis' eyes open, as he throws on the polo he's had on the day before, and flattening down the wrinkles. He attempts to mat down his hair at the same time, but failing amusingly, providing Louis with a half-hearted pout, the moment a smirk tugs at Louis' lips.

"Sorry babe," Matt replies finally, as he buttons up his trouser. " 've got work at 12."

 

Louis frowns, feeling a bit put-off by Matt's departing, and putters over to his boyfriend, clad in nothing but a blanket. The morning chill creeps up his feet, so he cuddles close to Matt, practically burying his nose on the man's nape, and taking a deep breath of his boyfriend's musky, lemony scent, while all-in-all, trying to snag as much warmth as he can, because his teeth is actually clattering enough as it is.

 

"Can't you call the day off?" Louis murmurs quietly onto Matt's ear. The bloke slides both his hands around Louis' waist lingering warmly against one another, before pulling away with a laugh, kissing Louis by the cheeks and shaking his head forlornly, albeit reluctantly.

 

Louis sighs (a little too exaggeratedly to be real), and lathers on a small smile, nodding his head as both of them departs, separate, but together, apart but entwined in some motherfucking roots.

 

Louis' life is perfect.

 

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

 

-

 

"Louis."

 

"Lou."

 

" _Tommo!!_ "

 

And a slap went to his cheek.

 

Louis blinks out of his stupor, as he smiles at Niall, watching the blonde follow in after him, the moment he heads over to his desk, lingering thoughts of the night before, and the places that still scar his skin, where Matt had held onto with exaggerated care and loveliness. Louis' not even the least bit ticked off that there is a faint splash of hand print that's reflected onto his skin, just delves in further on his reverie.

 

"Ow." He finally mutters, in a delayed reaction, clutching his cheek with delicate fingertips.

 

The fucker.

 

Niall smirks, rolling his eyes. "You know you've never looked this happy in ages, why are you happy?"

 

Louis sighs, feigning annoyance, as he--tries to--suppress the smile that's blooming on highly on his cheeks, his eyes crinkle annoyingly on his countenance.

 

There was silence for a second, before Niall gets this little knowing look on his face.

 

" _Oh my god!_ You're seeing someone!" He exclaims.

 

Before Louis could give a response, the blithe idiot continues on, as if he was on to some kind of discovery to some educational secret. "What's his name? What's his name?!" He demands. Since when did he hire an annoying parrot anyway? "Oh god, is he that tall Asian one with the Mohawk? Or was he the guy's cousin?"

 

Louis opens his mouth once more, but was stopped, yet again.

 

Figures.

 

"No wait, maybe it's the guy's cousin's son? Or--"

 

Louis snorts. "Matt's--Matt's different, yeah? He's um.." He chews on lower lip, feeling shy for some reason that's privy, even to himself. God, did it just suddenly get hot in here? "He's new, er.. We met about 2 months ago, and..." He drifts off with a dry shrug, and a smug smile.

 

Niall smacks a hand onto his gaping mouth to keep it from falling off his face. "So he has a name now? Since when do you give names to your one-night stands?"

 

Louis' just literally gnawing on his lip, staring at anything that deserved his attention better.

 

Niall cackles, like bloody guffaws like some damn hyaena, as he preens from where he stood, pink-faced, jolly, and clapping his hand erratically, akin to a toddler who's never gotten tired of 'peak-ah-boo's'.

 

"Oh my god, Lou! You're dating him?!" Niall boasts excitedly, not sounding like a question, but rather a statement. Louis guesses it comes with being an embodiment of a leprechaun.

 

Louis shrugs, smile dimmed down to something bellow ecstatic, but unfortunately, it still doesn't do him justice in keeping it away from his face.

 

"Oh my god!" Niall repeats again. "You are! You so totally are, bro!"

 

"Well, what can I say?" Louis chuckles, shaking his head a little too fondly.

 

God he's whipped.

 

"Nothing! Say nothing!" Niall replies regardless, smiling from ear-to-ear, as he settles an elbow on Louis' desk, face planted onto the heel of his palm, eyeing Louis with mirth stapled onto his eyeballs. "So," he drawls out. "The Matt that your dad called about, when he was asking if you both were still up for drinks, that's _your_ Matt?!"

 

Louis nods, feeling the small fluttering in his stomach.

 

 _When is this going to stop?_ He jests, albeit jovially.

 

"But then, what happened to 'Man with the penis tattoo', or 'Purple balls'? What about them?" Niall plows closer to his face, as eager as a small pup awaiting for its first chew toy.

 

"Gone." Louis replies simply, as he began replying through his overflowing inbox, fingers clacking on the keyboard, about 70 words per minute.

 

Niall gasps closely to his ear. He pushes the boy's face away.

 

"As in gone? Like, really gone? Empty slate gone?" Niall rambles, once again crowding closer to his face.

 

Louis nods, not taking his eyes off the screen. "The whole red carpet, gone." He affirms, smirking slightly at Niall's permanently gaping mouth.

 

"Wow Lou." Niall says after a questionable silence that drifted along them. "You've never been, like, held down by just one guy before. The man must be that special, eh?" He inquires.

 

A slow smile spreads over Louis' lips. "He is."

 

-

 

"You look gorgeous."

 

Louis preens under the attention, as he literally throws himself onto Matt's car, and capturing his fellow into a quick peck, his heart stuttering, as he buckles on his seat belt.

 

"You don't look half as bad." Says Louis with a teasing smirk, as Matt starts the car.

 

Matt looked wounded. He'll survive.

 

"You're not very fair." The man utters with a small pout.

 

Louis rolls his eyes, still smiling, still glowing like the morning sun that looms over them. "So are you still up for drinking with my dad?"

 

Then all of sudden, it felt like an anvil had dropped on top of Louis' head, as he watches Matt's expression fall, like literally fall, as his boyfriend eyes the road warily, avoiding Louis' quiet, albeit penetrating gaze.

 

"I," Matt swallows, carding a hand messily through his hair, like he was being probed, like there was a gun to his head. "Listen, Lou.." His eyes finally find Louis', blank, yet there's a hint of something... _Something_ Louis couldn't quite surmise. "Just got a phone call from a neighbour, said that there's flood in the house, and that I have to get there as soon as possible."

 

Louis' stomach clenches a little. "So you're going back to Connecticut?"

 

Matt sighs, but nods.

 

"Then how's about we re-schedule? Tomorrow... Maybe?" Louis offers, hands balled into tight fists on his sides, as he awaits his boyfriend's reply, who's now shaking his head vehemently, that little look, still installed within the corners of his eyeball.

 

"Can't," Matt replies easily, like it was some rehearsed prose in the making. "Said that it might take a while."

 

"Oh." Louis chews on his lower lip, as he clenches his fists a little more at his thighs, not allowing the dread to swallow him whole and leave nothing but the remaining shards of his broken heart. "I.. I guess that's more important than meeting my dad.."

 

Matt frowns, eyeing him sympathetically.

 

Louis hates, absolutely detest that look; It's making him feel like he's the only one trying, like he's the desperate one. So he looks at his lap instead.

 

He feels the car pull up on a street, and a hand to his thigh, giving it a tiny, but predatory squeeze.

 

Louis looks into his boyfriend's eyes, and sees that dark look that flashes over the man's eyes, the lust that he's been quite acquainted to, ever since he met the man.

 

"Babe--"

 

Louis frowns, his eyes dissecting Matt on the spot, as he removes the man's hand from his leg, opening the door for the passenger's seat, and heading towards the pub. "Just don't, yeah?"

 

He was expecting an apology.

 

He was expecting some sort of agreement to the said offer.

 

But when he turns his back, he could hear the engine starting up again, and gone was his boyfriend.

 

It didn't hurt a little.

 

Or maybe it did--a fuckton more than he is willing to admit.

 

-

 

Louis sees his father, Mark, the moment he entered the bar, clad in some crisp, silver suit, with a white polo undone on the first 3 buttons, salt and pepper hair bordering from thoroughly fucked or bed hair. Louis guesses it's probably the latter.

 

" _Dad!_ " He rasps, plastering on a smile, as he approaches, and pulls the old man for a hug. He reeks of sweat, some over-priced perfume and cigarettes. Yep, that old fart is still up to his 'no-good' flings.

 

But then again..

 

So was Louis.

 

"Lou!" His father smiles, clapping Louis in the back, before pulling away, and re-plants himself onto his original position, as Louis settles himself on the table across from where his dad was seated. "How are you m'boy?"

 

Louis leans back onto his chair, smiling sweetly, feeling a bit of tension dissipate, as he converses on small conversations with his dad, till a waitress approaches them with two glasses of transparent, piss-looking wine.

 

"I hope you don't mind, but I ordered for us." His father sniffs, blowing out a billowing amount of smoke onto the open air.

 

Louis shrugs, nonchalant, as he takes a small sip, then swallows down the bile that crept up his throat, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "You ordered gin? Since when do you order gin?"

 

His father shrugs, taking a sip as well, undeterred that he's swallowing down, what is essentially cat piss, laced with some farm-grown grain or something. "Sorry, forgot my glasses at Margaret's place," he explains. "You know how it is."

 

Louis roll his eyes. His father hadn't changed, not even after all his life that he had known the man.

 

"Speaking of significant others, how's Matt? I thought you were going to introduce him to me?"

 

Louis throat closes, as his arms unconsciously wraps around his middle, feeling small, and exhausted. "Not sure if we're even together anymore, to be honest."

 

Mark frowns, but only with his eyes, because he's got this plastic smile still written along his face, like he's ready to punch somebody, when provoked. "Oh no," the man coos sympathetically, the not-smile still glazed on his lips. "What did the fucker do?"

 

Louis shrugs again, responding airily, then into something unbridledly heavier. Fuck, he shouldn't be this hurt. "Said that he couldn't make it.. Says his neighbour saw a flood in his house, and that he had to go back to Connecticut as soon as he can."

 

"So what's wrong with that?" His dad deadpans, idly tapping his fingertips onto the table, his attention focused solely on Louis.

 

Louis fumbles for a moment, before responding. "I donno, it's just," he squirms on his seat a little. "The way he reacted when I asked him, I.. I don't know, something just felt a bit.. Off-putting.. I don't know." Then adds as an afterthought, "I don't like it."

 

Mark snorts, tension seeping away from his body, as he slumps back onto his seat like he had done earlier. "What's with you kids and relationships?" He questions the ceiling above him, then settles his beady, grey eyes back to Louis. "Something's always wrong when it comes to relationships these days." Then, "It's probably nothing."

 

Louis rolls his eyes. "Says the guy that's had, like 5 marriages down the drain."

 

His father smiles (this one seemed genuine), clapping Louis on the back a little too aggressively, telling him to ease down a little, and relax. "I'm just saying, you shouldn't give up on your relationship if you really think it's worth it."

 

"So, what do you expect me to do? Go up to his house with vodka and chocolates?" Louis snarks, swallowing down more of the piss wine.

 

Mark smirks, taking in a long drag of cigarette, and blowing out flimsy grey wreaths. "Just go put on some skimpy outfit, visit house to offer him your services, then  _ **BAM!**_ You're back to having sex in your shower."

 

Louis feels he's grown wings on his feet, smirking as he got up from his chair, then kissing his father's cheek. "That's only when we're cramming for time."

 

Mark rolls his eyes fondly. "Didn't think I needed to know that much, to be honest."

 

Louis only laughs, winking as he opens the door that he had previously entered in. "Learned from the best!" Then he blows a final kiss, before closing the door on his way out.

 

-

 

As Louis' cab come to a halt in front of Matt's house, he does one last check on his whole attire for the evening. He wore a tight, small, navy blue button up plunger's uniform from one of his Halloween costume, his bum is adorned in tight booty shorts that accentuates his bum very nicely, and his hair is rumpled, into a messy quiff that looked effortlessly thrown together, like it was evident he did something fairly indecent, and yet he looked like he had just stepped out from a porn mag.

 

"Don't worry, you look hot." Says the cabbie, winking in his direction.

 

Louis smirks, giving a small, non-existent hair flip, as he undoes his third button of the night, watching as the man--who looked too old for Louis' liking, hair modelled into a gigantic, jet black quiff-- roamed his eyes down, till he sets his eyes on Louis' prick, under the thin denim, licking his lips hungrily.

 

Louis involuntarily shivers (and not the good kind) under his gaze, as he unbuckles himself from his seat, and takes his first step towards the open gates.

 

"Do you want me to wait up for you?" The man purrs, not so subtly, as he rests the hand not resting on the steering wheel onto the passenger's seat beside him, like some invitation.

 

Louis cringes slightly, mumbling his perfected, thinly-veiled distaste ' _no thanks_ ', before heading over to the front doors.

 

\- -

 

It was after six knocks, that somebody opens the door. A beautiful boy with bronze, curly hair, and glittering green eyes opens the door, clad in a silk, gold robe that managed to cover at least half of his skinny chicken legs, but falling short at his knees.

 

"Can I help you?" The man rasps, hugging himself tiredly, as he squints, eyeing Louis with a small smile. Crap, are those a ghost of dimples he sees? Focus Louis, you're here for Matt. _Matt_. "And please don't tell me this is some sort of pornstagram or something?"

 

Louis cackles.

 

Only on the inside.

 

"Hi, I'm Louis, um.. I'm here for Matt, to help him with the flood?" Louis inquires, flashing his flirty smile, as he idly swings his plastic plunger on one hand into a circular motion. "Are you his in-keeper?"

 

Curls snorts, beaming right at Louis, like he couldn't believe the assumption. "No, I'm Harry King, his husband."

 

And if Louis was feeling shitty earlier, this time is just ridiculous. It felt like a plethora of dark, melancholic feelings just possesses his body, like a plot ripped out from American Horror Stories, and he felt his heart clench, and unclench, as he settles a weak hand on a urn right beside him. "Oh." He breathes, _"How could I have been so stupid?"_ He thinks. "I must, um, be mistaken, I'm looking for Matt Kink, you know? Old guy? Big glasses, overstuffed, ehm, figure? Down in Parmesan street?" He's surprised that he's still making jokes, even at his vulnerable moment.

 

This time, something serious flashes to the man's eyes, as all traces of welcoming is wiped clean, only leaving nothing but an odd look, like he's suspecting something. "You mean Matt King, right? And I don't think that street exists down here." He murmurs, crossing his arms sternly.

"Oh," Louis mutters quietly, stepping back. "Then I'll just, um, go--" And his stumbling down, right with the oversized urn--that he supposed was heavy enough to support him--and into the bushes, like the filming of some comedy show.

 

Goddamn shit fuck, this day is just getting worst.

 

The man by the door, clasps a gasp with massive hands, as he reaches out a free hand to Louis. "Oh my god! Are you okay?!"

But Louis was-- _is_ already hurting, as he tries to card his shaky fingers through his dead, limp quiff that was supposed to be his reeling net for the night. "Uh," he tries to speak, but his bottom lip wobbled, tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. "It's, um fine.." Louis shakes his head, deciding against it. "J-Just send me the bill for the, erm, urn." Of course he's not expecting one, but it's nice to offer at least.

 

Harry still had his hand out to Louis (he pretends to not notice it of course; one single human touch was what it would've taken for him to break into tears), as Louis makes to prop himself up steadily onto the wall, with his heart still thrumming against his ribcage. "I'm really sorry about your lamp--er, urn...."

 

And he limps his way towards the front gates, privy from said husband's field of vision, and re-dials his phone for another cab.

 

-

 

Everything looked dead.

 

The world lacked colour.

 

There is no vibrancy in the morning sky.

 

Louis felt like crap, and the umiverse should feel his agony.

 

"Woah, did he fucked you too hard that you're now mourning the lost of your v-card?" Niall chirps, throwing an arm around Louis' lithe shoulder casually.

 

Louis' mouth opened to reject, and to deny his assumption, but not a word came up, as his frown deepens to a menacing scowl. Even a single thought of that bastard is not worth Louis' time.

 

"Hate the world, dislike your cheery morning attitude, and loathe the idea of sex."

 

Louis almost considers converting into a nun.

 

And as if he'd caught on with Louis' deadly vibes, Niall's expression morphs from a flourishing peony, to a more sad, mellow azalea, his eyes unreadable, albeit calculating. "Lou, what happened?"

 

Louis glares at the lad through his raybans, his lips forming into horrible contempt, as he enters his office. "And who sent _these?!_ " He literally growls, as he eyes the blotches of burgundy red roses to swallow up half of his desk.

 

"Some clean-cut lad just came up this morning and--" Niall tried to reply, but Louis' faster, eyes slicing through the visible, freshly printed card that lay on top, amidst the overflowing glitter that's blotted onto each petal.

 

" _M'sorry hun, let's meet up for drinks... Your call of course._ " He imitates from memory in a low octave, but just a shy away from his regular, sharp tone.

 

And he sees red. He didn't even know what possessed him, but he felt like an angry bull, his nostrils flaring, and eyes emitting some sort of menacing, red glow.

 

His hands instantly claws toward the bouquet of roses, sending petals to scatter into the air, as he sends the damn things air borne, then wrestle it as soon as it smacks through the clean carpets with a dull thud.

 

"Woah, woah! Lou!" He can hear Niall calling out to him, but his ears had chosen to be selective, and all he could hear is _**kill kill kill** the damn roses!!!_ And that's what he followed through.

 

Anyways, about a good half hour later, Louis' composure seemed to have hit a plateau, as he slumps back onto his seat, massaging his temples.

 

"So it's not the sex then? Because I reckon your skin is fucking radiant like a motherfucking gem, and your hair's fuller, and more sparkly." Niall guesses, eyeing a stray petal warily that's been torn to shreds, lying limp on the carpet, as he approaches.

 

Louis chooses not to comment on any of that.

 

"He has a husband." Louis deadpans instead, swiping a hand down his face, seeing as his raybans have probably been sacrificed during the raging war.

 

"So?" Niall frowns, appearing almost quizzical. "That hasn't stopped you before, has it?"

 

Louis squeezes at the bridge of his nose, as he closes his eyes, his body declining any sort of argument with this said boy. "That's the thing Niall," he sighs, forlorn. "I'm not young enough to do shit like that anymore."

 

"For pete sakes Lou." Niall sighs, resigned. "For the last thirty fucking times, you're only twenty-five, you're not old."

 

"But I'm not getting any younger!" Louis protests weakly. "You and I both know that."

 

Again another sigh. "Look, Lou." Niall jumps onto the seat, across Louis'. "I'm just saying, the reason as to why people hire you, is because you're smart, brutal and sassy, something that's essential to a kick-ass lawyer, 'innit?"

 

Louis' face meets the table, as he angles it, so that his cheeks meet the flat surface, and his eyes towards the transparent glass of his building, surrounded by the endless, blue sky. "So what are you saying? That I break up their marriage?"

 

Niall shrugs. "If the guy's able to hide a double life from the both of you, then he's just as tough as you are, it's inevitable. You guys are perfect together!"

 

"But I don't want to be that person Niall." Louis confesses. "I don't want to be that person to be the root of someone's marriage to fail." _I've seen enough from my father as it is._

 

"It depends on how you handle it though." Niall shrugs.

 

Louis frowns at his friend, throwing a balled up piece of paper into the boy's creaseless forehead. "Yeah, because you've got experience in that department, with two failed marriages jotted down your résumé, because you couldn't keep it in your pants for once."

 

Niall doesn't even flinch. "Hey, the husband was a workaholic, and the missus is a bloody hedonist, it didn't take two-and-two to foresee the divorce!"

 

"Niall," Louis sighs. "I'm not gonna argue with about this, I don't want to wreck a marriage, period."

 

Understanding blooms on Niall's face, as he captures his friend in for a one-armed hug to apologize, then checking in with the incessant ringing on the phone that's been going on for the past minute.

 

"So, are you up for a visit right now?" Niall asks, covering the mouth portion of the phone with his free hand. "Because someone named Harold King is waiting for you outside."

 

Louis has never felt his stomach plummet any faster.

 

\- -

 

"Hi." Comes the voice, even before Louis could look up.

 

"Um, hello." Louis voices, approaching hesitantly, wondering whether he was about to be chewed out or something by the dog that Harry had with a crimson leash.

His eyes finally drift up, and he sees the boy, like finally properly rake over the man's body, seeing the gilt robe to be replaced into a camo scarf to wrap around his mane of tousled, wild curls, a white ironed shirt that appeared to be a few sizes too short, and his legs are wrapped around in these sinfully tight satan-inscribed black skinny jeans that rationalize his endless height (and those polished brown ankle boots do him no good either).

 

The two stood in silence, but it was Louis who broke the barrier first.

 

"How did you find me?"

 

Harry flushes, like literally flushes like a delicate red, chewing on his lower lip, and looking to the ground, before finding a bit of his footing, and meeting Louis' gaze once more. "I saw your name in my husband's phone--"

"Wait, you went through your husband's phone--" Louis interrupts, raising a brow. Interesting.

 

"Okay," Harry moves back a step, but continues on regardless, flush still painted along his cheeks. "I'm not the type to be able to figure things out like his passcode, because I've tried every single important date to the both of us, like anniversary, birthday, and junk, but that didn't work, so I went through his files and saw your name, and address and--"

 

"But how were you so sure it was me, I only told you my first name--"

 

"I took a chance, okay? I--"

 

"But why would you go through so much trouble? We just met--"

 

"It's because I have no idea what's going on with Matt anymore, and I figured you could tell me." Harry snaps, shoulders slouching, looking impossibly small. "I just.." He chews on his lower lip, seemingly unable to hold his composure.

"Why don't you ask him?" Snorts Louis, because he's not going to be dragged back into this mess, not even going to allow himself to be somehow coalesce his time frame with that two-timing bastard. "It-- _He_ is your husband after all."

 

"Well I doubt he'll even tell me anything true, because he's too busy _fucking_ you!"

 

Louis mouth instantly felt dry, as he eyes Harry, watching the boy's reaction, as it transitions from adamant to trepid within seconds. Oh fuck, isn't that what he came here for? To lash at Louis for stealing away his husband? For ruining their marriage? For unintentionally being Loki's incarnate?

 

Then the boy's mouth drifted open, then closed, appearing at lost for actual words.

 

"Wait... So... You guys... Were..." Realization clicks behind the boy's eyes, and he's began taking shallow breaths, collapsing at the empty L chair that's sat behind him. "You, you're not denying it.." He sniffs, eyes still on Louis, as he lay flat in his back, at lost for any sense of coordination.

 

Louis clenches his fists, his eyes not leaving Harry's either, to hopefully transmit what his mouth refuses to spout.

 

"Two months."

 

" _TWO MONTHS?!?_ " Harry shrieks, yanking on the the collar of his V-neck. "You guys have been doing it behind my back for two flipping _months?!_ "

 

Louis swallows heavily. "Yeah."

 

"So when he said he was training for the marathon--"

 

"Mhmm." Louis taps his hands nervously at his jeans, wondering whether the next tornado will hit, or the possibility of getting mangled by a speeding car right about now, because he can handle that. But this, this is literally when he's at wit's end, and the ground is swallowing him down whole.

 

"And the Olympics--"

 

"Yep, that too."

 

Louis is expecting a slap in the face, or maybe a massive cat-fight to pull through, but as he sees the painful sigh to escape Harry's body, that's when a brush of sympathy mars itself onto his bones, and cements the cracks of his bruised heart. Because he's not the only person suffering here, seeing as Harry, the husband, who seemed like devoted and loving spouse, is now only finding out that his husband of (god-knows-how-long) many years, to be cheating on him, with a man he knew nothing of, till yesterday. Louis reckons the blow is not as bad as the one Harry's going through right now.

He can only imagine.

All thoughts came to an abrupt stop, as he sees Harry claw at the window, looking rumpled, and blotchy-eyed, clawing at it, like it will act as some sort of makeshift door for a dramatic escape.

 

"Erm, what are you doing?" Asks Louis, as he tries to keep his chuckle at bay, as Harry literally smears his cheeks onto the window in heavy desperation.

 

"Why isn't this thing opening?" Harry asks nobody in particular, tapping at it with nimble fingertips. His breath fogging up the glass. "I--I need to leave and this bloody window-thing is not opening." He looks to Louis for answers, eyes wide, and glazed. "Lou, why won't this window open?"

 

Louis brushes off the familiarity of the nickname, and shakes his head, unamused. "Harry, that's a window, not a door."

 

But Harry deemed to be far more insistent. "But can't this thing be, like a fancy door?" Then, "Doesn't it look the role?"

 

"No." Louis states, clipped. This is just getting ridiculous.

 

Harry backed away from the transparent glass, and had Louis believing for a second, that he can leave the lad alone, but the man-boy is absolutely bent on ruining Louis' life, because he throws himself back on the said chair, and lies on his back, squirming frantically in a way that he mimics a fish out of water.

 

This continues on for about another ten and a half minutes before Louis pulls a weary sigh, swiping at his face with his hand. "Look," he murmurs, watching as the boy freeze from where he lay, eyeing Louis patiently, and enraptured eyes (though he's actually not too sure why). "What can I get you to stop doing, whatever it is you're doing?"

 

Harry whines stubbornly, as if he's a child who's not given his favourite blanket to sleep with for the night.

 

"Come on Harry," Louis growls. "There must be something--anything to make you stop?"

 

Then Harry sits up, with glittering jade green eyes, and craters of dimples indenting his cheeks. "Anything?"

 

Louis knows he's probably going to regret this, but. "Yes," he sighs. " _Anything._ "

 

\- - -

 

Later on the afternoon, Louis and Harry decide that it'll be for the best if they'd take their little talk to the nearby pub, which lead to the aftermath of Harry to be soaked in sweat, barely incoherent, and is unable to take his eyes off of Louis, who's seated, so so close to him, that they might as well share the same body heat.

 

"But don't you feel, like bad for doing somebody else's husband?" Harry had ask, when he swallows down his second shot of the night, eyes hazy, glaze intensifying, and mouth so sinfully red as the drinks he's currently guzzling down.

 

And Louis would have snapped, like literally awaken his _f_ _ull-on-bitch_   _mode_ , if it wasn't for the open honesty that is reflected within Harry's eyes, like there's a lack of judgement (something that Louis' been anticipating), or a sneer, for him to filter out any bad, to burn, to contaminate his brain, and feed his mouth the burning profanities he's been willing himself to suppress, as of late. "Well technically, to be fair, I didn't really know anything about the marriage either, until yesterday."

 

Harry gasped, as in properly gasp, like he had the audacity to be surprised. "So wait, you didn't know?" Harry asks, fingers wrapping at the condensation that wrapped around the shot glass. "As in..."

 

"As in, if I never found out, I would've loved him, or somewhat.. I don't know." Louis shrugs. Though he reckons that he might be a hair strand too late.

 

Harry chews on his lower lip, debating what to say next. "So... Are you, like proper in-love with him?"

 

Louis shrugs, with a tiny depreciating smile to his lips. "Well, I wouldn't compare to the the degree that you two had--" enough to be married to the bastard for a long time, he wanted to add. "--but I think I was well on my way there, I reckon." He shrugs again.

 

Harry remains silent, squeezing a shot cup in-between his fingertips, before suckling on its rim without a second thought, wrinkling his nose as if he's tasted something pungent, and shaking his head, smiling down at his seat, inching closer to Louis (if that even possible).

 

"So what's your plan of defense? Lawyer Tomlinson?" He murmurs, giggling about nothing in particular, as Louis settles his flimsy blue eyes--that appeared an electric blue under the strobing lights--on him.

 

Louis seemed to contemplate the thought, shifting against the revolving bar stool, distancing himself from the suffocating heat and childishly spins a 360, before shrugging. "Never thought about it to be honest?" He asks. "Like, I can just leave him, seeing as I'm just a--"

 

"An illicit boyfriend!" Harry contributes almost excitedly.

 

As true as that may sound, Louis couldn't help but feel as if a tidal wave had crashed onto him, felt as if he's the one that committed the felony, as oppose to Ma--Nope, never thinking about him any more than necessary.

 

" _Don't_." He snaps, because Harry doesn't get to do this to him... Not when he's already hurting this much, not when he's feeling like a lonesome cat under a thick blanket of rain. "Don't fucking call me that, okay? Because I'm not the one in the wrong here, I just wanted to--I only wanted to be--" I wanted to be loved is what he wanted to say.

 

Even in his drunken haze, Harry sobers up a little, notices, and understands what Louis couldn't communicate properly, what he couldn't spout, so instead, he throws an arm around Louis, smiling in inebriated stupor, his teeth glinting under the flickering fluorescent lighting that bathed the two of them.

"Fuck it," he whispers. "How's about we devour the night yeah? None of that fucking wanker Matt is going to be uttered in this table again, because he doesn't matter, and we're young, and liberated to get drunk till we're utterly pissed, okay?"

 

Louis smiles at that. "You sure you can handle anymore Curly?" He asks, curious. "Cause, I reckon you're pretty much a dead lightweight."

 

"Nope, I'm pretty sure I can handle another--" And he makes this gurgling noise on the back of his throat, his eyes red-rimmed, and saliva dribbling from the sides of his mouth.

 

"Ehm, mate, are you alright?" Louis asks, settling for massaging a hand up the small of Harry's back in minimal strokes. "You look like you're chok--wait! Wait! Are you about to--"

 

Harry's cheeks puff up, and he's rapidly nodding his head, hand covering his mouth, in case of any spillage.

 

Louis snaps at the bartender for a bucket, but it was too late, because Harry literally yanks at his satchel, and spills out his contents inside. Louis would've laughed without a second's hesitance, but he remembers that he's not drunk enough to pretend they were friends, so he chews on his lower lip instead.

 

"How's about we get outta here, yeah?" He offers, feigning a smile.

 

But Harry beams, like downright light up with his stupid ruby red lips, and maybe, Harry isn't as sober as he thought he was, because the boy pulls out of his seat, and dissipates onto the midnight sky, his stupidly brown boots echoing along the corridors from where Louis stood.

 

Yep, definitely not drunk enough for this.

 

\- - - -

 

"Hey! _Hey!_ Come back here!" Louis bellows, falling a step behind the curly headed boy. " _Harry!_ "

 

But Harry, the complete and utter loon he is, only sticks his tongue out at Louis, giggling as he spoke. "Never gonna get me!" He croons. "You're never going to get me, Lou!"

 

"Harry! This isn't funny!" Louis bellows right after. "Your cab is here, and you need to get in. _Now._ "

 

"Noooope! Not till you catch me Lou Lou!" Harry drawls, skipping along the road, which Louis is thankful enough to be empty.

 

It might be that his vans are starting to feel uncomfortable, or that he just want to bury himself in a mound of blankets, that he halts, waving Harry's barf satchel around like a madman. He figures that it's zipped up nice and tight, so he's pretty much safe. For now. "Okay then, I'm going to leave now, this is me leaving Harold. See you!"

And that got Harry to stop, and stumble at a step he missed. Louis'd have predicted that the boy would have fallen, but he somehow managed to skip right towards Louis, like an overeager dog, awaiting for his some treat.

 

" _Waitwaitwait!_ " Harry barks along after. "Wait don't go! Don't go Lou!"

 

"I'm leaving now Harry! Hope you have a good life!" Louis smirks, watching the boy stumble on flat ground, before pawing himself to Louis' side.

 

"Lou! Lou don't leave yet! Don't leave!" He pleads, bottom lip jutting out in a small pout. Louis' smile falters a little as he stuffs Harry onto the open doors of the cab, and handing the man--that he's sure that was flirting with him before--Harry's satchel, along with profuse apologies, and the address to the King's residence.

"It's fine." The driver responds, just a shy away from actually being uncomfortably close to Louis' shoulder. "I've brought a few drunk tarts home on occasion." Then. "You sure you don't want come with? I'm sure there's plenty of space." And wink. Of bloody course.

 

"Uh right," Louis coughs, backing a step onto the sidewalk before he screams bloody murder. "My flat's just around here anyways, so it's fine, thanks for, um, being an accommodating cabby."

 

"Anytime!" The man smirks, taking his seat onto the driver's side. "Remember to call for Nick Grimshaw, alright? If you need a cab, or some other things.." He trails off suggestively, wiggling his perfectly trimmed brows.

 

Keep your temper down Tomlinson!

 

Louis gives a lip-bitten smile, watching as the engine start, along with Harry, who waved frantically at Louis, with promises of another day, but Louis' smile drops, only when he could no longer see the dark silhouette of the curly haired boy, wondering, contemplating as to what could he have done to deserve any of this?

 

-

 

As he was about to leave after a long day of work, Louis instantly cringes at the sight of the brown, curly locks that managed to glow, even in the mildest days. The sun hides between a mass of clouds, and from the looks of it, Louis reckons that it's about to rain.

 

But even before he can at least pretend to be preoccupied with the phone that's been buzzing ever since morning from 'he who shall not be named', Harry's eyes instantly glow at the sight of him (or was that a mirage of sorts?), as he rushes to Louis' side, practically latching an arm around his.

 

"I told you I'd come see you, Matt's been gone for a few _weeks,_ and I've been pretty lonely you know?" Harry pouts, tightening his grip on Louis' attempt of an escape. "We haven't spoken much about anything lately, barely even communicated, and--"

 

And instantly, it's like a stab at his last nerve, that he literally yanks his arm away from Harry, wondering how the boy this innocent is like a splash of acid on his skin.

 

"Listen, I don't give _damn_ about your relationship with your husband, okay? I was--am fine by myself, even without him, so don't fucking come here and rub it in my face that you guys are still married, because frankly, I've got enough things to worry about than something pretty useless as Matt fucking King, alright?!" He notices that his own breath has picked up, and a few onlookers have started.

 

He sees Niall at a distance, chattering away with wife number 2, close enough that he could pick up on Louis' odd behavior and possibly call him out on it, so he hides himself a little more by having his back turned. It wouldn't really make any difference, considering Niall had some sort of Louis compass embedded onto his gut, but no matter, he acts on it through principle.

 

Harry still remained quiet though, and statuesque, hands that held onto Louis in just mere moments ago, suspended in mid air. It looked like the boy had been stung, but Louis' already on his way to his car to even start caring, because fuck it, his heart's already been through enough with just one King. Having another by his side is not going to do him any good.

 

\- -

 

A knock came to the door, as he's decided that his hair couldn't be anymore _limp_. He'd have tried dozens of hair gels and hair products, and probably a comb, but decided against it, because let's face it, he's really not trying to impress anybody right now.

 

The knock came again, without a seconds hesitance, and Louis' rushing to the door, bearing his claws, squinting at the eyehole to see who it was, then latching onto the hand holding onto the knob, to prevent himself from doing anything risky.

 

And what the fuck?! It's Harry.

 

"The fuck?!? _Harry?!_ "

 

" _Hiiiiiii!_ " Harry waves, smiling brightly at the small hole. "I figured that you'd want something to eat, considering that it's lunch time, soooo.. Tadah!" And he brings up the medium-sized packaging he's holding, the label reads something in Chinese that Louis' (from some of a few acquaintances of his) sure says 'Golden Egg' in exquisite, gold penmanship.

 

"But I'm not--" he tries to argue, but his stomach growls in protest, so he opens his door with a silent creak. "How did you find me? Again?!"

 

Harry looked shy, pawing the ends of his boot at the threshold, tightening his hold on the leash he held.

 

Oh great.

 

He brought his dog.

 

"Well, I ummm," he chews on the corner of his lower lip as he looked up. "I sorta followed you home? And then, uh, I didn't want to come empty-handed, so I bought some food on the way?" He confesses, fiddling with the handles on the packaging. "Would you like some?" He offers, presenting the steaming take-out to the right of his temples, looking annoyingly bright; contrasting as to how shitty Louis felt this pasts week.

 

Fuck.life.

 

"You followed me?! Harry, we're not even friends, why do you keep pushing yourself on me, when your husband used me to cheat on you?!" Okay, the words didn't sting any less, even when it came out of his own mouth. "Why.are.you.here?!"

 

Harry stares at Louis for a minute, before he looks down, his eyes crystallizing from the rim. "Because..."

 

Something in Louis shrivels up (much like a dried raisin), but he needed his answers. "Well?"

 

" _Because I have nobody to talk with about this!_ " Harry snaps, but his whole frame shivers quietly. "I don't have, like proper friends to console with, because my friends are Matt's friends too, and if I start telling them stuff, they will gossip about it, then he'll catch on!"

 

Before Louis can even speak another word, Harry spurs on further. "And I can't have him divorce me!" He adds in, voice cracking at the end. "I won't have any money, because I had to give up my job of being a baker back in Cheshire to cater to his dream of being a kick-ass lawyer in America."

Louis swipes at his face frustratedly, Niall's terminology resurfacing in the boy's absence. "You do know that you have half of everything he has, don't you? So, like if you divorce him, you get half of his income, and you're both," he swallows, his throat burning at the confession. "--happy."

 

"But--" Harry tries. "Louis, I can't.. I can't start over again! I love my life here! I can't just--Why won't--" He groans frustratedly.

 

Harry heaves, breath coming out in quick spurts, his eyes directed to the ground. His shoulders is slouched, and he looked so defeated, so weak, that Louis feels his brain relent, just as he feels his traitorous body to inch a few steps away, to accommodate a small opening for Harry to enter through.

 

Minutes passes, and Harry still refuses to look up, which made Louis release an over exaggerated sigh.

 

Harry looks up, eyes very close to tears, bottom lip wobbling infinitesimally. He doesn't move, just gazes at Louis, with something close to relief, anxiety and... hopefulness?

 

"Well?" Louis raises a brow, hand gripping onto the door frame as he spoke. "I'll grant you an access in, if you give me the majority of what is inside that thing your holding."

 

And instantly, as if some divine energy had managed to zap Harry with bubbly giggles and installed some fucking flashlight into his eyeholes, Harry instantly lightens up like a goddamn star on top of a Christmas tree, nodding his head--almost reverently, but it was gone so quickly that he might've, sort of imagined it?--that Louis would've thought that the boy's head could pop off his neck by the amount of eagerness he's radiating.

 

"Of course!" Harry beams. "Supposed to be for you anyway."

 

Louis smiles too, but only smaller. "Well then, come on, I've got some wine to suit the occasion." He offers, heading over to one of his cupboards, and grabbing a bottle, and two champagne flutes that he's reserved for special occasions.

 

He then settles himself onto the couch that's facing back from the kitchen, and sits cross-legged onto the cushions, and opening the box that's labeled 'Lo-mien', and digging at it with a plastic fork.

 

It took a moment for him to notice, but Louis looked up, mid-slurp, raising an eyebrow at Harry, who towered over him, stalk-still and somewhat trepid. "What? Don't you want to sit?" He questions with a mouthful, swallowing down thick, greasy noodles.

 

Harry squirms from where he stood, shyly tapping his fingertips onto his thighs, a soft, pink tinge on his cheeks. "Did you guys, like, have sex in this flat often?"

 

Louis nods slowly, unsure of where this conversation was leading.

 

"Well, I refuse to sit anywhere where you guys... you know?" And he trails off, looking mildly uncomfortable, but he's still looking at Louis.

 

Louis snorts, smirking. "Uh, about that.."

 

Harry settles himself onto a spot behind another couch adjacent to Louis', raising a questioning brow at him. "How many times did you guys do it? Five? Six times?"

 

Louis chews on his lower lip. "Well..."

 

"Tell me Louis." Harry demands, crossing his arms firmly. Much like an annoyed kitten who's not fed immediately.

 

"Alright," Louis giggles, swallowing down half of his drink. "Fifty, maybe sixty? Yeah, probably fifty." He affirms with a nod.

 

Harry grimaced. "It was _two.months!_ " He protests. "How could you guys--" then he stops himself, chastising his ears by covering them with a large palm at each ear. "Wait, don't tell me, I don't want to know!"

Louis shrugs, pouring more wine onto his flute, and grabbing a warm spring roll, and popping one onto his mouth.

 

"Look," Harry sighs, pressing his fingers onto his closed eye sockets with the heel of his palm. "Will you--Um, just give me a spot in here that you guys didn't have sex in." Then he walks over to the transparent doors that lead to the balcony, leaning onto it. "How about here?"

 

Louis barks out a laugh.

 

Harry flinches, pulling away, as he pats at his bum as if that will be enough to clean his jeans, then inspecting the doors, horrified. "How the hell can you guys just--" then his head snaps to Louis. "You know people can _see_ through those doors, right?"

Louis shrugs, undeterred.

 

Harry pinches at the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed. "Un-fucking-believable." He says, quietly, but enough for Louis to laugh again.

 

"Look," Louis straightens up, folding his hands together. "We've had sex, like rabbits, yeah? But that was in the past, and you're just going to have accept that, and take a seat."

 

Harry studies the planes of his face, taking notes on his countenance, before seating himself at a random spot on the other couch that Louis did not sit in, grimacing as he does so.

 

The two sat in silence for half an hour or so, guzzling sloshy wines in their flutes, then moving onto the next bottle, and slowly, the two begin to unwind, scouring the expanse of Louis' apartment, with Harry popping inane questions at every other step. This went on for about three hours, till the two had decided to retire to Louis' walk-in-closet, Harry's dog napping at fluffy rug that sat below Louis' entertainment table, where there is a haphazard mess of chopsticks and splashes of red wine, where Harry had accidentally spilled amidst his inebriated babbling.

 

"I mean seriously, he has standards in the amount of hair I could have on me before having sex." Harry had said, deciding that Louis' Van's collection would be his next source of entertainment, opening the very first sleek shoebox he sees.

 

Louis chuckles, raising a brow, as he goes in after Harry with a wine bottle clutched tightly by his small hands. "S'not a big deal though," he assures. "think he's more into your penis, rather than some patches of hair."

 

Harry narrows his eyes, sliding the box down to his lap, as he crosses his arms and huffing grumpily. " _Yeah,_ " he snorts. " _Of course_ you'd say that."

 

And now Louis' intrigued, reflecting Harry's pose, only minus the leering gaze that came with it. "What are you trying to say, exactly?"

 

Harry gapes instantly, his hands laying atop the shoebox on his thighs. "You're _kidding_ right?"

 

"What?" Louis huffs. "Come on Harold, out with it. I'm not turning any younger you know?" He partly jokes.

 

"No wait, you are serious!" Harry gasps, baffled. "Louis, look at you! You're like an embodiment of gold and... I don't know, other beautiful things!" And then adds quickly. "Plus the bum. I bet you people are lining up at your door if you'd let them. Definitely the crowd-pleaser!" He nods.

 

Wow, Louis inwardly sniggers, eloquent.

 

Louis snorts at the last point, trying not to let the flush that settled onto his skin to be the product of nothing, but a few bottles of his exquisite wine collection. "Excuse me, I don't know whether to be flattered that you've stated that I have a fantastic bum, or to be offended that you have inadvertently referred to me as some slag."

 

Harry flushes, fiddling with his hands shyly. He mutters something that Louis couldn't hear.

 

Louis raises a brow. "I beg your pardon?"

 

Harry's face literally turns crimson. "I-I meant it... The bum, it-it was supposed to be a compliment." He confesses, stuttering through some words.

 

Louis positively preens at that, taking a swig at the wine bottle, and beaming at Harry. "Why Harold, that's got to be the most sensical comment you've ever told me!"

 

" _Heeeey!_ " He drawls out, voice just a smudge away from whiny. "I've been told that I'm an eloquent speaker, Matt even--" then he stops, eyes widening as he realizes what he was about to do.

Things should've gone downhill from there though, should've been hushed, just like the silver moon that loomed over the velvety night sky, but maybe it's the wine controlling his nerves that he just brushes off the 'almost' comment that Harry might've uttered, and giggles, drinking more from the bottle he held. "Oh, come off it Harold," he jokes, playfully jabbing at Harry's side with his elbow. "I'm sure that's a given when you get married, yeah?"

 

Harry hesitates, maybe flinches a tad bit, before smiling in relief. "Heeey!" He murmurs, pouting, looking positively relaxed, loose even; galaxies away from what he was trying to put off as dejected. "I just basically told you that you're some sort of deity with envy-worthy bum and you tarnish my eloquence?" "You sir, are not a very nice pal." He huffs, jutting his bottom lip forward with big, seaweed green eyes.

 

Louis rolls his eyes. "Not my fault that you speak so damn slow," he murmurs, a little close to fondly. He blames the wine, the wine!! "But I guess it's easier to hear you that way." Then. "And you actually didn't say deity, from what I can recall, you--" and he abruptly stops himself.

 

Harry's a pleasant colour of scarlet, as he chews on his lower lip, while looking down, avoiding his gaze.

 

Louis ignores the tiny flips his stomach is doing, and standing up, as he pulls at a lingerie that's littered with crimson laces, and nudges at Harry's knee with his toe.

 

The boy took a moment's hesitance, before looking up.

 

"I got this one during my trip in Rio." He says. "Thought it might spice up the mood, but," he sniggers, shaking his head. "It got thrown to the floor even before we got started."

Harry frowns, but makes a grab for it regardless. "I didn't know Matt was into lingerie?"

Louis snorts. "That's because he isn't." He agrees. "This was with another guy I was with, just a few months back... Didn't hear from him since..." And he trails off just for a second, before grabbing another article of clothing--another thing that Matt never got to encounter--and presenting it to Harry, feeling a sense of pride bloom on his chest, as Harry is positively delighted, clapping his hands eagerly, assessing the flimsy material beneath his fingertips.

 

"But how is this legal?" Harry had asked eventually. "It's jeans, but from the looks of it, it's going to be a tight-fit on your bum, 'innit?"

Louis snorts. "You say that like it's a bad thing," he jests. "Plus, I'm not the only one guilty of that crime, mister endless-legs." He sing-songs.

Harry is permanently flushed from head-to-toe the rest of the night.

 

-

 

"So, I'll um, talk with you later, yeah?" Harry asks, oddly hopeful (like they didn't just spend the night in Louis' apartment), the morning after Louis had decided that he should stay the night, taking into consideration of how late it was. Frankly--although Louis' not willing to admit to the thought any time soon--his night wasn't at all crappy, seeing as Harry's always alongside him, throwing in casual, albeit stupid jokes that the boy comes up with, on the spot. He might've laughed at some of them considering how unfunny and cheesy they were.

"Mhmm." Louis promises, smiling as he pulls open the door to the busy streets of New York. "But I'm just saying, don't, like get a lawyer just yet, because when he finds out that you're aware of the affair, you'll be treated as another one of his enemies, you know how lawyers are." He rolls his eyes at the irony.

 

"Okay!" Harry nods, mirroring his smile, if not brighter. "But, um, it was nice meeting you?" He squeaks, kicking a pebble underneath his foot, eyes to the ground.

 

"Yeah Curly, likewise." He responds, clapping Harry on the back of his shoulder, as he leads the boy to his cab. "So, I'll see you?" He states, just as Harry enters the cab. And fuck, it shouldn't sound like a promise.

 

"I'll see you." Harry nods sternly like he catches on, waving at Louis through the window. " _Byeeee!_ "

 

"Bye." Louis quietly responds, right after Harry departs. He shouldn't feel as sad as he felt, but then again, he has a traitor for a body.

 

-

 

He was just about to go to sleep after a long day of work, that he gets another phone call.

 

"Yes?" He rasps, not even bothering to care who it was.

 

"Why did you answer?" Harry asks, confused.

 

"Well I did, and I'm fucking tired, so what did you call me for, Harry?"

 

"Nevermind, just, erm, hang-up. You weren't supposed to answer." Harry responds, hesitant, and maybe a bit shy?

 

Louis groans, flipping himself, so that his back is onto the mattress. "What is it?" He ask, impatient. "You called me for a reason, and I answered. Big fucking deal, just tell me what's wrong."

 

Silence.

 

"Okay, don't laugh, alright? I just--I might've done a  _teensy_  bad thing."

 

-

 

As hilarious as it all sounded from the phone, Louis clearly got what he bargained for.

 

Louis showed up in record time, mentally prepping himself as to how everything would've been laid out, and of course, he couldn't believe how he had to do a double-take at the office of Matt's, before staring at the curly-haired boy who looked utterly forlorn, he has his head down, and both hands behind his back, appearing something alike to a child that's being scolded.

"Wow." Louis chuckles, mapping out the indents of the wall, and smirking at the shredded books that lay haphazardly on the floor, with some pages torn out. A vase had a few missing pieces, which lead to some dirt to scatter in the floorboards, and some shelves too had chips of wood missing from a corner or two. "What exactly happened here Harold? Some type of earth quake?" He muses, tracing a finger at a particular spot of Matt's desk, where there is a concave dent that's at least three inches long.

 

Harry squirms from where he stood, gnawing on his lower lip as he shrugs. "I just.." He fidgets under the attention. "I tried checking over his stuff, through his desk, and I found it all to be locked up, then I got to thinking that this room is full of lies, and I just... I lost myself while holding a golf club." He supplies dryly.

 

Louis barks out a laugh, because he could clearly imagine how the whole thing would've went, can imagine the unbridled anger that washes over Harry, as he grips at the golf club, swinging at anything and everything that came to view, and it's just the most fascinating development that Louis' seen in this man-boy, because apart from the lad's puppy-like qualities, there is some controlled hatred that threatens to bubble up, when stirred with the wrong way, and Louis reckons that maybe, Harry might be worth befriending.

 

"So how do you think he's going to react to this?" Louis asks, curious.

 

Harry meets his gaze, and smiles softly after seeing Louis expression, shrugging. "I'm not really sure about that." He says. "I mean, the least he could do, is like, scream, you know?"

 

"Oh I'm sure." Louis rolls his eyes, smirking. "And another thing--"

 

His voice was interrupted by a doorbell, so he follows alongside Harry, wondering who could it possibly was, until a faint dread settles upon him, didn't Harry say that Matt will be back somewhere at night time?

 

And he was proven wrong (of course) because the moment he was met with penetrating golden eyes, and sharp cheek bones, he swears he hears a low hum of the choir marinating along his eardrums.

 

"Oh hello," the man says, looking at both Harry and Louis, before staring back at Harry again. "Uh Harry, why don't you ever introduce me to any of your friends?" He asks, greedily taking Louis in with a small wink, as Harry fumbles for an answer.

 

"Well, actually, he's--Mmmmrphh!!" Louis shoves a hand at the boy's mouth, and simultaneously smiling, as he offers his free hand to the beautiful stranger at the doorstep.

 

"Nice to meet you, m'Lewis. The interior designer that Harry hired just recently, when we bonded over the right sand to use for a serenity garden." He lies, making sure he smiles big, and believable enough for the boy to remain clueless, which of course works, because tan and beautiful chuckles. Louis thinks he hears wedding bells.

"Oh really? And which type of sand did you two decide on?" He asks, leaning in slightly, to accommodate the space separating the two of them. "Don't tell me it's one of those clichés where you use ceramic white sand that glows like diamonds beneath one's feet or something?"

 

Louis snorts, opening his mouth to respond, but Harry was quicker, which was a surprise, considering the extent on how well acquainted the two had been for the last few days. "Lewis, this is Zayn, my step-brother, Zayn, this is Lewis, my interior designer, and he was just leaving."

 

For a moment, Louis scanned Harry's face for any type of indication that might've given away what the boy was thinking, but all he was met with, was a blank stare, and something indescribable protruding in his eyes.

 

Surprisingly, he doesn't argue.

 

"Well, I'll be out of your hair then, sorry to have to leave your company so soon darling." Louis beams, capturing Zayn in a one-armed hug, before releasing him, under Harry's eyes that clawed at them like a trail of laser that threaten to shoot out from his eyes. "Hopefully we'll meet again, yeah?"

Zayn smirks, squeezing Louis' shoulder briefly, and stepping back, as Louis gazes at Zayn with glittering eyes, waving as he goes, and hearing a faint ' _you got it'_ , before he enters his convertible, and heading over to his apartment, trying to pretend he's just not some twenty-five year old who has a fucking crush like a seventeen year old in high school.

 

-

 

Louis wipes at his face with a towel.

 

He's just gotten back from a thorough workout, and he's to sweaty to think about anything, but indulging in the cold recesses of his shower, and draining all of the sticky perspiration that glazed his skin.

 

But then, it seems that fate had other plans, because when he's chosen to strip off his damp, navy blue sweatpants, is when his phone started blaring.

 

With a low groan, and another swipe at his heated face, he looks over at to check out who the caller was.

 

' _ **Harry - Calling**_ '

 

Of course.

 

"Hello?" Louis greets, because they're friends now, and no matter how strong the urge he has to strangle the boy for interrupting his long awaited shower, he knows as much as the next guy that Harry'll probably take it to heart, and just stop calling in general.

 

And fuck, why does it sound like he's the one that needed this... Whatever this was?

 

"Hey! Lou, I need to talk to you." Harry speaks, faster than Louis' ever heard him, so Louis reckons it must be important.

 

"What is it? Did Matt freak out or something? About the rooms?" He questions, watching himself in the mirror as he spoke. His voice sounded airy, and nonchalant, but the slight furrow in his brows told something different. Fuck.

"No," And he can physically feel Harry shaking his head on the other end. "Told him I was re-decorating, and he swallowed it down like a fish in water." He tells him. "But you don't understand Lou, he came back from his business trip, and he's being so sweet, and kind, asking me about my day, god, I have no clue on what to do."

 

Louis lost his breath for a second. "So then just act like normal, pretend like how you were before you found out about the affair." He suggested, hating how his reflection showed a ghost of a down quirk of his lips.

 

"But Lou, his got this dark look in his eyes, that look where--"

 

"Yeah, I know where your going with that." Because he knows, knows what Harry meant, and bloody hell, it was like a punch to the gut. "So what are you going to do about that then?" Louis inquires, free hand gripping tightly onto the rim of the sink.

 

A pause.

 

"I don't know," Harry shrugs, Louis guesses, but from the sound of urgency of the boy's tone, maybe Harry's tugging at his hair in frustration. "Louis, I don't know." He squeaks. "I don't know if I can reject him, I don't know if just push him away, I--"

 

"Then just do him, yeah? S'not my problem, deal with that yourself." Louis snaps, feeling anger to bubble up his stomach. "He is your husband after all, you don't need to ask permission from me, because you said it yourself, I'm just another boyfriend to him."

 

What he didn't anticipate on was Harry snapping back at him. "You're right! I don't need your permission, forget I ever called, alright?!"

 

"Don't worry about that," Louis assures him, leering at his own reflection. He's not upset, he's just gutted that Harry's willing to just drop everything they've ever bonded over, and the stupid texts that they've exchanged, just for that two-timing bastard that is dead to Louis as of late. "I can assure you that you won't be hearing from me anymore."

 

" _Fuck you._ " Is all Harry says, and it's spoken in a slower, thicker potency that Louis would've though that Harry was on the verge of another tear-jerking session.

 

He swallows down his suspicion, and tightening his grip, his knuckles a deep, pallid colour.

 

" _Oh, I won't be the one who's doing all the fucking._ "

 

And he hangs up, even before Harry can retort back.

 

-

 

The next day, his hand are itching to send a text to Harry.

 

But then he remembers that they were fighting, so he chucks off his phone in the furthest side of the bed, and swallows himself in thick mountains of blankets, after calling in the office to notify them that he is feeling unwell.

They sounded surprised, because Louis was never one to skip out, even at sick days, so they didn't probe him any further.

 

He spent the whole day in bed.

 

-

 

' _Meet me in the café across your flat after you're done wit work._ ' Louis' phone had notified him with a text from Harry, just as the sky had turned a soft, baby blue colour.

There were no x's, or smiley face, so Louis mentally prepares himself for what's to eventually come.

 

\- -

 

The moment he arrives at the said café, Louis spots Harry immediately.

 

The boy wore no bandana today, so his hair was streak back into an artful mess, with long waves of wavy curls clustering up closely to his nape, and some ringlets on his ears. He wore a plain black long sleeve, dark skinny jeans, and those old, worn out boots he almost always wear for every occasion.

 

As he seats himself onto the seat across Harry, Louis notices that there's a cup of what smelt like freshly brewed Yorkshire, and a blueberry scone on top of a plain white fluffy napkin.

 

Harry held a newspaper in front of his face, but the scruff that came along with Louis' chair when he sat down, brought Harry to fold the newspaper into a neat pile, then dropping it harshly on the table in front of him. Woah, this caught Louis' attention.

 

At hindsight Louis would've thought that Harry was here to make up, but the menacing leer he was sporting, had immediately trampled on that idea.

 

"Well?" Harry raises a brow at him, as he crosses his arms to his chest, eyes still cold as the North Pole. He didn't even bother to start with polite pleasantries. A first, Louis affirms. "Aren't you going to say something to me?"

 

"My, aren't the clouds just pretty in this time of day?" Louis asks sarcastically.

 

But Harry isn't having it, his eyes flashing into a bluish green tint. "Don't play dumb Louis." Barks Harry, voice lowering an octave from his regular soft, low timbre. "We both know that you, playing dumb never works."

 

"Excuse me?" Louis snorts. "I think we both established that your bark is worst than your bite."

 

Harry growls, yanking Louis out the café by the wrist, and leading him out the doors, before more prying eyes were aimed their way.

 

The moment they were out in the street, Harry makes a grab for his neckline, and using his height to the advantage, as he pulls Louis against him, not tolerating the rage that's emanating off of him.

 

" _Are you still sleeping with my husband?!_ " He questions aggressively, Harry's stern gaze, and mint breath assaulting Louis' space, or a lack thereof. "Because I'm no mood for any types of lie at the moment."

 

Louis' expression contorted. What? What did he mean by that? "What did you mean by that?"

 

"Are you still sleeping with my husband?!" Harry growls, tightening his grip on Louis' dress shirt. "Pretty sure that's easy to understand."

 

Almost simultaneously, the words cut through Louis, more than Matt's infidelity. He didn't even understand why, but he thrashes from Harry's grip, enough to push the boy away with a rough shove to his chest, as he backs away, not wanting to cause too much of a scene. Luckily, there wasn't any curious eyes aimed their way, seeing as it was a workday, and the throngs of body were only interested on making their way to their workplaces in their tight business suits, and worn out, pastel uniforms.

 

"No," Louis replies simply, clenching his fists hard enough to draw blood from his palms. "I'm not."

 

"Then why did I hear a phone call from you to him--post-coital--that you were guys were going to meet up later?" Harry plows further, taking a step forward. " _Why.did.you.call?!_ "

 

Louis widens his eyes, taken aback by Harry's tone. But Louis' not going to let himself get stomped on, that's why he became a lawyer for pete sakes! This was his only go-to talent, apart from acting. So he steps forward too, crowding in Harry's face. "I'm fucking telling you, you _curly-haired twit_ , that I didn't, nor am I ever sleeping with your husband _again_." He continues, huffing, before focusing his attention on anything that's not Harry, feeling 'something' gather at the rims of his eyelids.

 

Harry tried to meet his gaze, but Louis shrinks away from the boy, taking the moment to blink his stupid tears away, and to collect himself. "I'm not--I'm not sleeping with him again." He repeats.

Louis hears a tired sigh escape Harry's body, so he looks up.

 

Harry is looking down, with a calloused hand to cover his face, eyes tightly closed. "I'm sorry." He croons, unable to look at Louis. "I'm sorry, Lou, I--"

 

"Don't worry about it." Louis quips, shaking his head vehemently, approaching Harry, and gently removing his hand from his face, as Harry's gaze finally meet his. "For the record," he sighs, smiling. "I would've done the same thing, you know?"

 

"You would?" Harry questions, gaze softening at the sight of Louis, eyes positively glittering under the stark, yet velvety softness of the midday sky.

 

"Mhmm." Louis nods. "I mean, like I said, he's no husband of mine, which makes sense why I'm not as torn up about it as I was back then, but your reaction is normal, I suppose." He shrugs, but then adds. "Well, as normal as a doting spouse could be."

 

Harry looked sheepish, shrugging also, but he says something under his breath that Louis couldn't quite catch.

 

"So," Louis starts, after a serene silence have swept over them. "If what I heard is true, and he's talking about meeting somebody, then that must mean that he's cheating on both of us."

 

Harry tilts his head. "You mean he has another lover? Besides us?"

 

"Yeah." Louis assents approvingly. "But how do we exactly prove our assumption?"

 

"Zayn!" Harry chimes instantly, sounding almost reluctant? "Zayn, um, he owns a beach house in Miami, we can spy on him through there."

 

Louis smiles at the thought. "Alright."

 

And the plan was set.

 

-

 

"You know, if you'd also taken the effort to actually look, than soaking up some sun, we wouldn't have to try so hard on trying to find the other person that Matt's cheating on us with." Harry suggests, regarding Louis as he scopes out the beach with large binoculars.

 

Louis re-positions himself from his fanning session, as he cocks his sunglasses down, to gape at Harry. "Excuse me? Did you just tell me to stop tanning myself?"

 

"Yep." Harry chirps, still scanning the beach for a familiar face.

 

Louis huffs, laying back, as he closes his eyes, loose and pliant under the blazing heat of the sun. "S'cuse me Curly," he gasps, offended. "But all of this--" he motions to his physique. "--doesn't just happen, it takes effort to actually get it at the right skin tone."

"I know that." Harry deadpans, but nothing more was supplied after that.

 

Louis was about to ask, but Harry almost drops the telescope, fumbling with its knobs to get a closer look. "Aha!" He preens. "I found them!"

 

Louis frowns, taking off his shades, and grabbing Harry's telescope so that he can take a look at the same spot where Harry was looking. "No.freaking.way."

 

The moment happened as if it happened in some cliché, overrated romance movie, where the lad that Harry pointed out, seemed to be walking in slow motion with water lapping at his feet. The boy wore loose black shorts, and brown raybans. He had golden skin (much more glossier than Louis'), and a perfectly sculpted body befitting a god, with prominent muscles that hugged around his body.

 

He is perfect.

 

Too perfect.

 

Which is why Louis pushes Harry to make some space, so that he could make a lunge at the lad.

 

Harry squawks, but latches onto Louis' wrists briefly, before Louis snakes away from his hold, and bolts at lightning speed.

 

Harry groans, running faster and faster, gaining velocity, as he catches up to Louis, and literally tackles him onto the sandy floor.

 

The brown-haired boy passes them, oblivious.

 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Harry growls, pinning Louis from beneath him, and taking on both of the boy's wrist into one hand, pinning them above his head.

 

Louis thrashes, instead of replying. "Get the fuck _off_ me Harry, let me at him!"

 

"No!" Harry snaps, tightening his grip on the lad's wrists. "I'm not going to let you! You'll screw everything up if you do!"

 

But Louis' having none of that, as he pulls at his restraint, and switches their position, so that he straddled Harry with his thighs, before making a run for it.

 

But not before Harry yanks on his ankle, sending him face first into the sand beneath him. "Fuck!" He groans, throwing himself at Harry.

 

The two kept on with pushing and pulling at each other's hair, that they were unaware of a certain onlooker that approached them.

 

"Are you guys alright?" The boy asks.

 

Louis and Harry plaster on a smile as they bobbed their heads. Both their hairstyles very much skewed, and rumpled with sand and much other things they refuse to acknowledge that washed up on shore. "Yeah, we're fine." They informed. "But would you mind speaking with us?" The way that they spoke in sync should scare Louis, but there are greater problems at hand. He guesses it's the latter.

The boy furrows his perfectly trimmed brows. "Uhm, okay?"

 

\- -

 

"Wow." The boy--who they are notified of as Liam--sighs, dejected. "I didn't--" he sputters, then meet gazes with Harry. "He told me that you cheated on him, and that you guys were divorced."

Harry's expression falls, and he looked uncomfortable at the subject, so Louis wraps an arm around his shoulder. Harry gives him a small smile in thanks.

 

"M'afraid that he played you, love, just like he did all of us." Louis sighs.

 

"But look at the bright side!" Harry shrugs off of Louis' side, approaching Liam, and straddling him with an arm on the dimples of the guy's back. Ouch. "Least we're aware of it now, and we've met a new friend, eh Lou?"

 

Louis rolls his eyes, but there's a tiny quirk in his lips that gave him away. "Yeah." He nods, but then he realizes. "Wait, why are you so friendly with him, than me?"

 

Harry pouts, swatting at the boy's arm. "I was an affair virgin then, Lou." He simpers. "You were my first, so I had the right to act the way I did."

 

Of course.

 

Louis refused to speak him for the rest of the day.

 

\- - -

 

"So Louis, how are you?" Zayn asks, nursing a cup of water that he hands to Louis to rehydrate himself, after 'bonding' with both Harry and Liam, and laughing at nothing and everything all at once.

They played disco, and _Just Dance 4_ on Zayn's game console, and had gotten pissed drunk to even care about the world.

 

The party dwindled down when Harry accidentally kicks Liam after a particularly horrid pirouette, which lead to Harry apologizing profusely, but making lewd winks towards Louis. Which is... yeah...

 

And now, Louis, being the dramatic fucker he is, looks over the horizon, where the sun was just bathing deeper onto the endless sea, till the sky darkens to an ebony shade.

 

"M'fine." He shrugs, thanking Zayn, and gulping down the offered cup, feeling the soothing of his throat, as the water washes down ache from the booze. "Just... thinking." He shrugs, wrapping both his arms around himself.

 

Zayn smiles boyishly. "Penny for your thoughts?"

 

And Louis takes up on that offer, seeing the genuine interest in the boy's eyes.

 

"Alright."

 

-

 

Louis wakes up with a pounding hangover.

 

The sky appeared bleak, almost like a white light, as it washes over the figure that slept beside him (well, apart from the tiny fortress that acted as a makeshift wall).

 

A giggle snaps him out of his reverie.

 

"Finally, you're awake." Zayn rejoices, though Louis is still trying to figure this guy out.

 

Louis furrows his brows, gripping onto the sheets, then snapping his head to Zayn imploringly, as if something cold is injected to his veins. " _Are you--Did we--_ " and he falls short, chewing on his lower lip.

"Of course not!" Zayn laughs, shoulders shaking. "You tried to dry hump me though," he informs. "And look, we both have our clothes on, and there's this barrier in the middle of us."

 

Good point.

 

Louis groans onto his palms, feeling his face heat up. "I'm sorry, for whatever I did, I--"

 

But Zayn chuckles, shaking his head. "No worries Lou, you were drunk, and I was just another breathing body." he soothes. "Plus, Haz made it clear not to."

 

And what?

 

"Huh?" What?! Louis' confuse.

 

"Harry," Zayn corrects with a nod. "M'not sure that he'd approve of such things."

 

"Oh." Why? He wanted to ask.

 

Zayn shrugs knowingly, smirking down at Louis from his bed.

 

"Breakfast?"

 

And Louis forgets the conversation entirely. Or at least he tries to.

 

-

 

"So I have devised a plan on how to get back at Matt."

 

Liam and Louis smirk at one another, as Harry takes out waterproof marker onto the whiteboard, squeaking as it jots down Mark's schedule.

"So this is what his schedule is for the week, here, here, and here are his free-days, where he goes out of the house to excuse himself in some 'business' he is partaking in, any questions?"

Louis raises his hand.

 

"Uh, Harry, are you sure about this? I mean, we're already going too far with stalking him to Miami, don't you think?"

 

Harry gripped harder onto the marker, shaking his head. "No." He dictated. "He ruined all of our lives by doing this to all of us, so the least we can do is get something out of it, yeah?"

Harry looked so determined, so adamant, that Louis swallows down his argument, and slides a hand on Liam shoulder and squeezing briefly.

 

Liam understood, nodding at Harry, and smiling towards Louis.

 

"So boys, who's up for a little fun?"

 

-

 

' _Me'thinks a newer, more balder side of Matt is enough to put me to bed at night._ ' Harry texts him as he was sitting down for lunch with Niall.

He laughs, boisterous, as his phone buzzes almost a minute after.

' _His moobs don't hurt either ;) .xx_ '

 

And Louis loses it.

 

-

 

"I'm glad to have you back Lou," Matt smiles, wrapping a possessive hand around Louis' wrist. "Maybe we can meet your dad soon, hmm?"

 

Louis smiles. "Appreciate the offer, maybe another time, yeah?" He says with a wink that he knew could get Matt off faster than a jet stream and burning up hotly under his trousers. "By the way, I need some advice."

 

Matt hums, gaze darkening under the candlelit lights. As expected.

 

"My dad's wife is cheating on him with another man, how do you suppose he can regain his income back?"

 

The idea struck a cord along Matt's expression, but Louis bats his eye lashes innocently at him to make it seem as if he was naive to the situation.

It took a few moments for Matt to respond.

 

"You just get her _good_." He states with a wink, and then grabbing Louis' empty drink towards the barista without another word, and chatting up a man in a red suit with a flirty wink. He looks over to Louis, and Louis beams as he tears open a package of laxatives and pours it straight into the man's drink.

 

Louis stirs it with a spoon quietly, and places the spoon right beside his plate, just as Matt approaches, and downs his drink.

 

"So, how's your--" And his face contorts in an instant.

 

Louis could hear the grumbling and the bubbling in the man's stomach from where he sat. He's surprised that he isn't bursting out with laughter just yet. Pun fully intended.

 

"Excuse me," Matt looks to him apologetically, rushing off to the men's bathroom, knocking down a waiter or two, before throwing himself onto the door.

 

' _I guess if you gotta go, then you gotta go. ;) xx_ ' Louis texts to Harry and Liam.

 

And that was that.

 

-

 

The trio walks about Central Park leisurely.

 

Louis faintly thinks that the trees match the colour of Harry' eyes.

 

"If he had this much secret boyfriends, and we're not giving him what he wants, don't you think that he'd get suspicious about it?" Louis asks, stretching his arms, feeling his shirt ride up a few inches.

He ignores the way he feels Harry's eyes trail down at the sight.

 

"So what do you suppose we do?" Questions Liam.

 

"One of us should have sex with him then?" Harry offers.. Although his voice sounded guarded if a bit hurt by the suggestion.

 

"Okay, I should do it." All three of them choruses.

 

Harry leers at Liam and Louis, and Louis and Liam looks quizzically at Harry.

 

"How's about we do rock-paper-scissors then?" Liam supplies, eyes sparkling at the thought. Fucking kid he is, Louis thinks.

 

"Okay on three."

 

"One."

 

"Two."

 

"Three."

 

Harry and Louis both choose scissors and Liam chooses rock. " _I win._ " He boasts, smiling.

 

Harry growls. "But he's my husband, don't I have the right to doing that?"

 

Liam doesn't catch up on Harry's withering gaze, as he shrugs. "Whatever floats your boat, man," he shrugs again. "Plus, I told him I have chlamydia when we had sex the last time, so I doubt that I'm not getting much D."

 

Louis stays quiet, questioning Harry silently.

 

Harry doesn't even look at him.

 

-

 

A few days passes, and no contact came from Harry.

 

Liam and Louis had conjured up a list of companies that Matt had invested in, and had embezzled, as Louis had texted for both Liam and Harry to hold a meeting in his flat for the afternoon.

 

Harry had flinched at the idea, and frowning. "Isn't that, um, going a bit too far? I mean I get why we did those other things, and he deserved it, but I just don't think--"

 

It was Louis who shot up the seat first. "Harry, what fuck are you on about now?"

 

Harry fidgets in his seat, looking at anything but Louis and Liam's searching eyes. "I just--" he chews on his lower lip. "I think he got what he deserved?"

 

"But it was you idea from the start!" Bellows Louis. Harry does not get do this. Not when they were just getting started. "What happened to that? You fallen for lover boy again?"

 

Harry shrugs, chewing on his lower lip.

 

"Un-fucking-believable!" Louis throws his arms frustratedly into the air. Why does Harry always do this?! Why does he always try to see all the fucking good in people?!? Why?!?!

 

Liam eyes the two warily, but keep silent, hands folded neatly onto his lap.

 

"You know what, both of you, get out, now." He finds himself saying, just when a migraine settles itself onto his head.

Harry was about to say something, but Louis turns away into the kitchen, not bothering to check if the two had departed.

 

' _Need you, when r you free? ;) xxxx_ ' he texts to Matt.

 

He knows he should feel guilty, but that just caught him off guard, that he couldn't bare to be within the proximity of Harry right now.

 

Not when he's starting to care a little _too_ much for that curly haired idiot.

 

-

 

They don't talk for a week, but Louis' been busy with the whole ploy to even bother with the ordeal.

 

Louis hears from Liam that the couple had taken a break to the Bahamas, so he organizes his papers and heads straight to where Harry was.

 

\- -

 

Surprisingly, Harry didn't put up much of a fight, when Louis had called him to meet him up at a beach party, where his mate Stan had invited him.

The curly haired boy looked trepid as Louis and Liam approached, and simultaneously shrunk under their gaze.

"Harry--"

"I'm sorry." Harry interrupts, eyes brimming with tears, as he buries his face onto Louis' neck, and his arms around his neck. "I'm so, so, _so_ sorry Lou." He whimpers. "I should've listened to you, I'm stupid, very stupid."

 

"You're not," Louis assures him, wrapping an arm around his thin waist, just as Liam slides his hand automatically up and down Harry's back soothingly. "You're smart Harry, very smart."

 

"M'not though," Harry whines, snuffling onto his neck. "If I was smart, I wouldn't have fallen for his tricks yet again!"

 

Louis snorts. "But you were smart enough to confront me when you questioned his loyalty to you. You used your brains and put two-and-two together, and look how far you'd come. You should be proud." He adds in, just because.

 

Harry nods numbly onto his neck, refusing to let go.

 

Louis smiles, cooing at the lad, before he catches sight of the booze. He unwinds Harry's arms from around him, and catches Liam and Harry with both his arms wrapping around their shoulders giddily. "Enough of the drama for now." He says. "How's about we devour the night, yeah?"

"Mhmm." Harry giggles onto his neck, remembering the reference of the words.

 

"Fuck yeah." Liam agrees, beaming with his teeth.

 

-

 

"So basically, I did some research, and it seems that you'd sign yourself up as the CEO of every single one of Matt's falsified money hoax." Louis states come morning, along with stacks of papers in different colours occupying both hands.

 

Harry sips at his cup of tea, not at all surprised from all these news that he's been receiving. "So how do you suppose we take action on that?"

 

"Why don't we just go to the bank where he goes to, then explain to them our situation?" Liam adds in, chewing on a piece of bacon.

 

"Harry, do you know which bank he goes to?" Louis asks, turning his head to the curly haired boy, who was shaking his head immediately.

 

"No idea."

 

"Then why don't we just trail them? Seem good to you lads?" Liam proposes.

 

"Good, let's trail the fucker." Louis commands with a wink.

 

" _Aye, Aye Captain!_ " Harry giggles enthusiastically. The dork.

 

"Oh captain, my captain." Liam quotes, saluting heartily.

 

Louis sighs, he shouldn't be used to this already.

 

\- -

 

Just as soon as they got the approval from Harry, Louis, along with Liam pulls up to where Harry is, in a rental buggy, then trails after Matt, who was already speeding onto the open road.

It didn't take them much to realize that he wasn't riding alone.

 

\- - -

 

After Matt departs from the said bank, along with mystery man, Louis and Liam coaxes Harry to speak with the bank about their situation.

Surprisingly, he seemed excited, and determined, so Louis gives him an encouraging pat on the back before sending him off.

 

\- - - -

 

Louis watches Harry as the boy yanks the ring from his left finger, and stares at it with longing eyes, which left Louis guessing as to what could be swirling around the boy's head. 

 

Regret?

 

Uneasiness?

 

Reluctance?

 

He had to know.

 

"Harry--" Louis tried to voice out.

But Harry smirks, then throws the ring into the calm waves of the ocean, then capturing Louis in yet another hug. "Lou, I did it." He murmurs quietly, mouth so, so close to Louis' ear that shivers crept up his neck involuntarily. "I did it."

 

Louis nods. "You did." He affirms. "M'so proud of you."

 

Though there was another step to go, Louis' shoulders felt lighter, and his body radiating with pride for the boy, and how far he'd come.

 

Tomorrow.

 

Everything will unravel tomorrow.

 

-

 

So everything turned out as well as he'd initially thought. Alongside Harry, and Liam, he sends, what is initially his final text to Matt, telling him to meet up with him in his office, then erasing him from his contacts, along with all of the incriminating pictures of the two of them like he was supposed to initially have done earlier.

And that was it... 

 

He hadn't feel this good in years. Like a shackle has been pried off his leg.

 

"We can do this." Harry whispers quietly in his ear, just as Liam was taking a piss in the washroom. "We can do this."

 

Louis looked over where Harry had settled his lithe fingertips on his shoulder, and he sees it shake slightly, from what Louis assumes was anxiety.

 

"Yeah, yeah, we can." Louis says in the same tone, soothing Harry on his back. "And we'll be fine."

 

Harry swallows, before staring back at Louis, his gaze, almost in awe, his mouth slightly gaping. His eyes are a beautiful emerald green, and he traced over Louis' figure, with quiet contemplation, eyes just a smudge fuzzy, in reverence to a dream. 

And, for some reason it makes Louis' innards to twist in unmeasurable angles.

 

"Yeah." He echoes, smiling softly. "Absolutely."

 

\- -

 

"Why hello there."

 

Matt snaps his head around the room, and an expression of a caged animal overcomes his face. He heads over towards the door he headed from, but Niall's already ahead of him, shaking his head, apparently taking in a role of a disappointed parent.

 

Louis is very thankful.

 

Matt groans, swiping a hand down his face, facing them once more. "Um, hello?" He squeaks. "How are you lads?"

 

"Fine." Liam says.

 

"Hmmm." Louis frowns, crossing his arms, his gaze cold.

 

"Sit down, Matt." Harry sighs, tapping his fingers idly tapping onto the folders atop the mid size 20 by 8 meter table that sat in the middle of the room.

 

Matt sticks his ground, as he eyes Harry warily. "Babe, what's going on here?"

 

Harry furrows his brows, chewing on his lip before he spoke. "You never told me that I'm CEO of 15 different companies that I've never even heard of."

 

" _Harry--Honey_ \--" Matt tries, carding his hand through his hair, frustrated.

 

"No, Matt, you've been telling me that the things I've been signing for all those times, were either mortgages finalization or some bills for electricity, and I believed you, because you were my husband." He says, voice shaking in the seams.

 

Louis holds his hand.

 

Harry doesn't pull away.

 

"Were?" Matt catches on quickly. "What do you mean?"

 

Harry raises his left hand, making sure to showcase his ringless hand, as gives Louis' fingers a squeeze. "You're a lawyer, you should know that we're divorced now, and that I am back to being a Styles again."

 

Matt gapes at him, but Harry continues, unfurling from Louis' grasp, and taking a confident step forward, throwing the folder he held in the portion of the table where Matt stood.

 

Matt instantly makes a grab for the documents and scanning it with his eyes frantically zeroing on the digits.

 

Harry continues regardless.

"If you look at that folder, that indicates the amount of money you stole from all those companies," he begins, taking in a shaky breath. "And if you go ahead and look at the very bottom of the sheet, that is what you've got left."

 

Matt's eyes bulges, and he angrily hurls the folder onto the table. "You can't do this to me!" Matt interjects, fumes literally coming out his ears, and face in a livid red. "You're CEO, which means that you're going to jail too!"

 

Harry all but sniggers, as he shakes his head. "I returned all the money of which you stole," he informs, fire in his eyes absolutely shining, soaring in with an almost ethereal glow to them. "Which is why neither of us are going to be arrested."

 

Matt growls, and stomps closer to where the three men stood.

 

Harry widened his eyes, and Louis pulled the boy behind him, his stance, ready to attack. Liam stays on his side, but he cracks his knuckles, hovering in the proximity of where Louis and Harry mediated, in case he's needed.

Matt stopped, smirking deviously, when he was about 3, maybe four meters away.

 

"Oh, so you're protecting _him_ now?" He snickers, pointedly staring at Louis. "Really? Harry? You're protecting Harry? Naive Harry who can't even understand what's written in fine print?"

" _FUCK.OFF."_ Louis hisses, shoving Harry further behind him, who winces--no doubt speechless from Matt's perfect façade to slip away--eyeing Louis warily.

 

"You sure do know how to pick your boys Lou," he states. "Really, _really_ tasteful."

 

Louis smirks at that, sniggering even, because it's so.damn.funny!

 

Something in Matt's eyes shifts, and he analyze how manic Louis had appeared, laughing like he'd just been told that he's actually an evolved version of an imp.

 

"Oh my god." Louis heaves, his stomach and ribcage aching by each giggles that escaped his lips.

 

Harry frowned, but his stance loosened, and his grip on Louis' shoulder weakened. "Lou, what--"

 

Louis sighed, smiling brightly at Matt. "Yeah, I _sure_ do." He says.

 

Matt frowns, attire dishevelled and looking absolutely pathetic, and torn down, realizing what Louis had meant. But before he could speak another word, a burly man in a black suit and red tie opens the door, looking far from being impressed with the situation.

Matt whipped his head to face the man, and he his face pales on the spot. "Simon, sir, I--"

 

"Nope, I've heard of the situation, and I'm afraid I can't sponsor the idea you and Harry had proposed before." Simon sighs, shaking his head. "Partnering myself with your company would bring down my business' name, seeing as you've gotten quite a history of felony down your bank account."

 

Matt looked mortified, and his movement appear sloppy, eyes red-rimmed and frantic, glancing at everybody in the room, before releasing a babyish whine, and stomping towards the door he had entered from.

 

Louis would've thought that, that would be the last of him, but he turns around the last minute to point aggressively towards Harry, points at him with a flushed, twitchy index finger, promising that he'd get back at him soon enough.

 

But nobody seemed fazed, even openly laughing at how Matt had departed, crawling back into his hole, like a dirty rat from the sewers who managed to escape through some faulty pipes to try to play the role of King by wearing a plastic crown. His surname sure does add to the irony.

"As for you, Mr. Styles." Simon smiled, approaching the two huddled figures.

 

Louis beams, pulling Harry by the wrist, closer to Simon, so that he could pay attention a bit better.

 

"Although we are inclined to turn down your idea of monthly greeting cards, I do like your creativity, I am seeing a lot of promise, an endless amount of potential. We need that in our team, would you consider having lunch, so that we could discuss more about it?" He offers, handing Harry a white card with his contact number, and cell number in bold writing.

 

"Sure." Harry replies breathlessly, shakily pocketing the card. "I'll, uh--I'll get back to you soon?"

 

Simon nods, the corners of his lips quirking slightly. "At your leisure of course." He offers a hand.

 

"Of course." Harry stutters, shaking the man's hand.

 

And Simon's gone.

 

\- - -

None of the three breathed a word for about a minute, maybe ten.

 

Harry's stuck in the same place where he stood moments ago, and Louis smiles up at the boy, rubbing at his back, between the protruding shoulder bones.

 

Liam excuses himself, smiling down at a text he got from his phone (which, no doubt is from Zayn--a daring twist nobody expected), and giggling as he heads out the door.)

 

And then there were two.

 

"I'm really proud of you Curly," Louis muses, playing with a particularly long strand of hair that curled on the collar of Harry's shirt. He feels the hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickle by the touch, so he pulls away in the same instant, aghast, because he's definitely not too sure if Harry's be disgusted. "Barely anybody in Matt's department can stand up to him like that, let alone lash at his ego a few couple of notches."

Harry hums. "Well it's getting a little too overbearing if I'm being quite honest."

"Yeah," Louis laughs. "Leave it to Harry Styles to get the job done."

 

"E-Edward." Harry stutters sheepishly. Although, Louis' actually not too sure why. "That's, um, my middle name."

 

Okay? "Well mine is too." Louis smirks, watching as Harry's eyes glitter by the sound.

 

"Really?"

 

Louis laughs. "Not really, it's William actually."

 

Harry looked positively radiant with cheeks as pink as bubblegum, his eyes at a downcast towards the floor.

 

Silence.

 

"Louis?" Harry asks, voice teeny, if not shy.

 

"Hmmm?" Louis trails his gaze, watching Harry as he nervously fidgets with his fingertips.

 

"Just, um, don't punch me too hard, okay?" He requests, balling his hand into fists.

 

"Wha--"

 

And without a seconds hesitance, Harry catapults himself to Louis, and takes his mouth on his.

Louis gasps in the boy's mouth, as Harry kisses him insistently, kisses him with everything he's got, and it didn't take too long for Louis' brain to connect with the nerves that lead to his mouth in order to yank Harry by the small of his back, and push him right onto the shutters that covered the transparent walls of the room.

His heart is echoing along his throat, as he swallows down Harry's sighs and gasps. His legs slot between Harry's thighs, and he feels Harry's arms lace firmly around his neck and deepen the kiss, licking onto the boy's parted mouth.

 

Louis feels his hands tugging at Harry's curls, eliciting a small purr from the boy, which lead to Louis smiling into the kiss, and deliciously grind his hips onto the denim fabric.

 

All he can think and feel is _Harry Harry Harry._ Harry and his long, ringlet curls, Harry and his rose pink lips, Harry and his crimson cheeks, Harry who is sighing, Harry who is coming undone in the seams, Harry who is made out of everything that's good in the world, Harry who sees and make it his purpose to reveal the good bits in people, especially when they're not exceptionally nice to him.

 

And then that Harry who doesn't think too highly of himself, Harry who tries to accommodate everybody, even when he didn't get much in return, the Harry who thinks lowly of his own learning skills, and tries to make particularly inane jokes, just to lead the mind astray from the hurt that's clearly reflected in his eyes.

 

If Louis could, he would like to bundle Harry up into a small ball of warm blankets and soft pillows, and tell him that he liked him just the way he is, shield him away from the world, and don't let any mole hills to obstruct him on the steady path he's in.

 

He'd like to tell him how beautiful he is, how he always made Louis' day within a span of a second of being around him, would like him to tell him how he didn't need to hold anything back when he's with Louis, because Louis' already thankful enough with just being able to gravitate around the boy within close proximity, and have an arm around his shoulder wherever they went. But to have is heart too, is to basically hold the world within his fingertips, and that says a lot, taking in from Louis' history of endless lovers enough to end the drought in the Sahara desert.

 

He feels his fingertips inching up the prominent V above Harry's waistline where he feels the fabric from his boxers, can feel Harry's stomach clench underneath his touch, and the red to overcome the boy's skin. Good hands, just a tiny bit more, and--

 

A cough mixed with a laugh separates the both of them in an instant.

 

His eyes took a while to focus, with the haze that surrounded his vision, but he blinks it away, as his eyes focus on Niall, who had his arms folded on his chest, and a smirk to tug at his lips.

 

"Well, well, I was going to come in, and comfort you with the break-up, maybe open up some rum, but I see that you've clearly moved on, and not at all devastated by it." Then his piercing blue eyes rake over Harry, his smirk widening at Harry's tornado hair, rumpled clothing, and bruised ruby mouth from the duration they've kissed. "Hey mate, M'Niall." he introduces himself, offering a hand.

"H-Harry." Harry attempts to calm his erratic breaths, and give Niall a firm shake, only to be tackled into a suffocating hug.

 

"HEY!" Louis screams."Stay the fuck away from Harry, you Irish bastard!!"

 

Niall hums into Harry's neck, giving a firm sniff, just to get a reaction from Louis. "Mmmm." he chuckles. " _Strawberries._ " Which lead Louis to wrench Harry away to the side, as he tackles the blonde boy into the ground, prodding at every ticklish spot known to man.

 

"Okay, okay!!" Niall wheezes, helping both himself and Louis up from the ground.

 

Everybody who worked into that floor had simply rolled their eyes at the scene, and continued in with their responsibilities, seemingly used to Louis and Niall's childish antics.

 

Louis scowls, holding Harry's wrist, who looked positively delighted at Louis' protectiveness, his dimples indenting his skin impermanently from how big he's smiling.

 

"Remember Horan, stay well away from my boy, yeah?" he reminds, just as they made an exit through the door. "Do another stunt like that again, and we'll see if you'll be able to use that nose ever again."

 

Niall cringed (undoubtedly shaking on his toes), but nodded with a wave.

 

"You got it, ye' wanker."

 

\- - - -

 

It's as they were making their way back towards Louis' apartment that Harry speaks.

 

"So," he mutters lowly. "Your boy, huh?"

 

And Louis' cheeks burn scarlet, but he doesn't turn away. "Yeah, you alright with that?"

 

Harry preens, flush marred highly on his cheekbones and ears.

 

" _Definitely_ okay with it."

 

\---

 

**_~Fin_ **

 

**Author's Note:**

> And we have come to an end.  
> I'm hoping there's not too much errors I missed, but I'll skim over it again when I get the time.
> 
> Got any questions? Comments?
> 
> My tumblr is: pidgeontoestyles
> 
> Thank you for reading! :))


End file.
